


She's Your Friend?

by RoundMyHouse



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, F/M, Fucking in front of lab specimens is hot, Hojo canonically fucks, Lab Sex, PWP, We've all seen him at Costa del Sol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoundMyHouse/pseuds/RoundMyHouse
Summary: "Oh... so SHE'S your friend."
Relationships: Hojo/OFC, hojo/original female character, hojo/reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this dumb thought that the way he says this line in Remake suggests that he has some other "she" in his lab, so this naturally led to me imagining a smitten lab assistant who he potentially has tied up in some compromising position somewhere in the lab, and who he first thinks of when the main party talk about "getting their friend".
> 
> Anyway from that tenuous idea, here's their first encounter. I might continue this, there aren't enough Hojo PWP fics in existence.

The lab was usually quiet. The only sounds were the bubbling of the vitrines, the faint hum of electricity, and the soft conversation of the lab assistants who were moving from tank to tank, noting down life signs and growth, chemical composition, viability, distress.

The sharp smell of mako was everywhere. Even in the rec facility, the smell of it permeated your hands and made your food taste of it. No-one wanted to sit too close to the R&D team at mealtimes. To be honest, no-one particularly wanted to sit next to the R&D team at any time.

For the amount of money flowing through the department, the lab was in a bad state of disrepair. There were rooms where piles of broken cages had been dumped, some of them still containing dead or dying specimens. There were walkways and catwalks that had been smashed and bent by augmented specimens that had grown a little too large for containment.

No-one talked about that. It wasn’t politic to get on the bad side of the head of department. His successes clearly outweighed his failures in the eyes of the president, and the results of his more audacious experimentation could hardly be denied.

The man himself was not often seen outside of the lab. He wasn’t the type to socialise in the rec facility, and he called no-one in the building his friend. He had a few assistants that he trusted, and you’d sometimes see him deep in conversation with Scarlet or Heidegger or Palmer, the latter clutching a handkerchief over his nose fastidiously as he scurried after the Professor into his private offices.

Once in a blue moon you would even hear him say “Welcome to the lab, Mr President!” loudly and ostentatiously at the top of the stairs, the cue to line up neatly at the side of the room, nodding and murmuring a welcome as President Shinra passed by, followed by Hojo glaring _don’t embarrass me_ at them all over his glasses.

He wasn’t particularly complimentary of the President when he wasn’t around, of course. It was an open secret that he considered his own Great Work (a nebulous and undefined goal that no-one except the man himself was really clear on) more important than anything Shinra wanted him to do.

This was the culmination of a dream. This was where she had wanted to be since she was old enough to watch the news bulletins and see what great contributions the Shinra R&D team were making to the war effort. Her parents had saved and scrimped and put her through college for this and she couldn’t have been prouder when she was accepted onto the very team she had idolised all her life. This was proof she was smart, she was capable.

She was a mess.

Her hands trembled as she typed, trying to get this done and not attract notice, just do her job and get out of here. She hadn’t realised he would be in today. She was desperately, foolishly glad she had gotten up in time to pick out fresh clothes and wash her hair today. That was a stupid thought – what exactly did that matter? Who was she trying to impress with that? Even with his reputation, just what, exactly, did she think was going to happen?  
  
He was speaking softly to another member of the team at a workstation just behind hers. He would be inspecting her work next. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

He was at her shoulder. He gestured impatiently for her to get out of the way. She stepped aside quickly, moving to her next task, not wanting to appear idle.

She heard him tutting. He was scribbling something down onto a piece of paper.

“You,” he said abruptly, “Follow me.” And he was off, striding towards the back of the lab where there were doors leading to smaller rooms housing more delicate specimens.

She stood there like an idiot for a moment and then trotted after him, just making it through the door before it hissed closed.

He had his back to her, examining a tank with a spindly, round-eyed specimen in it, half-grown and waving gently back and forth in the green mako-infused liquid it was born in. His long, glossy black hair caught the dim light emanating from the tanks, giving her the most inappropriate urge to touch it.

He spun round suddenly, taking her by surprise, and she straightened her posture, ready for whatever was about to come next.

He looked at her with furrowed brow through the round, dark lenses of his glasses. She could feel her cheeks colouring, she glanced at the floor, clutching her lab coat fabric nervously and trying to smile in a polite and professional way.

“What is wrong with you?” he said softly, sounding exasperated, “Your supervisors all report excellent work, but I have never observed you to be anything other than clumsy, inattentive, sloppy. This is sloppy work!”

He held up the paper, his assessment of the experiment she had just stumbled through setting up. Her smile faltered. She couldn’t read it from here, but she knew it wasn’t good. He shook the sheet in her direction and made a dismissive noise, turning away.

She breathed out, freed from his gaze. She opened her mouth to apologise, make an excuse, say something, anything. Nothing came out. She was gaping like a fish. She shut her mouth again.

“Anyway,” he continued, “let’s proceed. You’ve wasted quite enough of my time today.”

He beckoned to her over his shoulder. She hastened over to him, eager not to make more of a fool of herself than she already had. She peered around him. He was tapping the glass of the vitrine in front of them.

“This is what I want you to monitor. I have-“ he gestured at the panel on the side of the tank, “-readouts, figures, life signs, but I need details a computer cannot give me. I need you to stand here-"  
  
He suddenly spun to face her, grabbing her shoulders and moving her into position, “-and I need you to note down everything it does for the next three hours.”

He moved behind her. She hoped he was going to just go and leave her to it, but he lingered there. She took out her notepad and pen, keen to show willing.

“Y-yes doctor. I’ll do it. Thank you!” she managed to say, in what she thought was a normal voice.

He stood there, not saying anything. She trembled, not meaning to. Her hands shook minutely as she held the pad aloft to write her first timestamp.

He chuckled softly. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck. She wished fervently that she had worn a scarf today.

“Is that what the matter is?” he said, almost too quiet to hear. She didn’t know whether he was talking to her or the goggle-eyed specimen in the vitrine. It blinked slowly a few times, and she scribbled that down.

He stepped closer to her. She took a deep breath in and held it. To her shock, she felt cold fingers brush her neck, and she couldn’t help but let the breath out in a quiet gasping sigh.

“A grad student with a crush?” he murmured, placing his hand more firmly on the back of her neck now, his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her to him, her back flush against his chest. He wasn’t a large man, but he was forceful enough and she melted into his embrace, unable to stop herself from closing her eyes and making a high-pitched little sound of want.

“Yes, I see I was right. I always am,” he said, directly into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She was in a state of shock, she’d assumed herself to be beneath his notice, not ambitious enough to seem the type to want to sleep her way to the top.

Ambition couldn’t be further from her mind in that moment. She let her arms fall to her sides, the notepad forgotten, almost slipping from her fingers.

“Yes,” she gasped out, just as his lips touched her neck, his face scratchy with stubble, “You were right-"

He laughed again, against her skin, effectively shutting her up.

“If I had realised I was having this effect on you,” he said in a moving tone, tightening his grip around her waist and bringing his right hand up to grasp her jaw, running a finger over her lips, “Perhaps I would have invited you into a small, dark room alone with me much sooner than this.”

She closed her eyes as his cold finger explored her lips, before the tip of it pushed past them just a little way into her mouth. He tasted bitter, of chemicals, of mako. His hand withdrew from her mouth with a wet sound.

“So, it’s a crush. Well. Let’s see if we can get that out of your system.” he said, dark glee in his voice. She felt his free hand between her shoulder blades and suddenly she was being thrust forward, his left arm still caught around her waist so that her face and upper body were slammed against the vitrine. She cried out in surprise and pain as her cheekbone made contact with the warmish glass, lifting her forearms up (too late to protect her face) and bringing them to rest on the glass on either side. Her notepad and pen clattered to the floor.

He laughed again, the same way he did whenever something interesting or amusing came up in the course of his research. She felt him sweeping her lab coat out of the way and placing his hands on her hips, gripping her firmly through her pencil skirt and sensible tights.

“There’s always one,” he mused, as she panted against the glass, “One starry-eyed little lab assistant in every intake.” He punctuated this by sharply connecting their pelvises, snapping his skinny hips into her backside, drawing a moan out of her and causing her to push back against him.

Thus encouraged, he ground himself firmly against her, letting out a tiny satisfied gasp of his own as she rolled her hips in response. He leaned over her and applied his lips to her neck again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She gasped, all the breath leaving her lungs in one go.

She felt her sensible work skirt being inched up over her hips. Was this really about to happen, here, in the middle of the work day? Her cheeks were flushed bright pink, her cheekbone starting to feel bruised, and she was breathing so hard the glass in front of her was fogging up. The specimen inside moved fitfully, but there was no way she would be able to record anything about it in this state.

Her skirt was bunched around her waist now, and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her tights. She pushed back again against him and this time she could feel that he was hard. This elicited another little moaning gasp from her, and he yanked the tights down to her thighs in one smooth, practiced movement.

She was so wet that she wondered if he could see it through her underwear, and just as she thought this she felt his fingers probing, gently at first, around the edges of her wet slit, before forcefully and rather violently plunging into her. He made a satisfied little hum under his breath as he curled his fingers inside her, feeling her clench around him. His thumb brushed up against her clit, testing, teasing before grinding down, rubbing circles around the swollen nub, moving his fingers inside her with an obscene wet noise.

He was breathing more heavily now, his other hand wandering up her back to rest at her neck. He curled a finger around the base of her ponytail and sharply tugged, bringing her head back, letting him see her half-closed eyes and open, panting mouth. He kept his eyes on her, still rubbing her clit viciously, pumping his fingers in her, his mouth a hard, amused line and his erection rubbing against her backside through his trousers. Her eyes fluttered open a few times, but she had to close them again against that penetrating stare. Her cheeks were bright red, her mouth open and she was pushing back, bumping her backside against him again and again until she reached climax, breathing heavily through it and letting out a little squeak as he pushed his fingers in deeply one more time, feeling her orgasm from the inside. He laughed, 

“Well, that was easy.”

He pulled his fingers from her, the elastic of her underwear snapping back into place and making her flinch, and delicately pushed them into her mouth once more. This time he tasted of her arousal, but the bitterness of mako was still there. The idea that he had smeared some of it inside her made her moan and her tongue curled around his fingers. He let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh, rasping in her ear, telling her to turn around.  
  
Back to the vitrine, she clung to his shoulders as he slung a hand under her knee, lifting her leg to the level of his hip. He rolled her tights leg down and she flexed her foot to make it easy for him to free her leg entirely, her sensible leather lab shoe clattering to the floor.  
  
She still couldn’t meet his gaze, turning her head and closing her eyes, panting in anticipation, feeling weak and pliant after her orgasm. She heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone, a fly being unzipped, and then she felt the head of his cock bumping up against her thigh. He didn’t wait, clutching her hip with one hand and himself in the other, guiding himself to her dripping entrance and thrusting impatiently inside, pushing her underwear aside in the same swift motion. She threw back her head and moaned as he filled her, her cunt swollen from orgasm and soaking wet, allowing him easy entrance.

He grabbed her by both hips and crushed their pelvises together, grinding against her, his cock fully sheathed in her. He bit her neck, no doubt leaving another mark that would be hard to cover. The very idea of walking back out into the lap proper with unmistakeable marks on her neck made her leg tremble under her, and she clutched harder at his shoulders to stop herself from falling.

He pulled out of her, agonisingly slowly, and she panted once, opening her eyes and seeing his gaze again fixed on her, that look of detached amusement in his eyes, his sharp-looking predatory teeth bared in an unsettlingly hungry grin. He let out a self-satisfied little _“ha”_ and began fucking her hard in earnest.

*

Elsewhere in the building, Scarlet clicked to maximise her illicit rolling feed of cameras in her colleagues’ various departments and rolled her eyes.

“He’s fucking one of his lab assistants again. You’d think a man who spends all day in a genetics lab would be more careful about throwing his DNA around the place.”

She tapped her monitor with a long sharp fingernail and tutted.  
  
“Completely unethical.”  
  
She shifted her feet and the Shinra security officer she’d ordered to his knees that morning grunted as her heel dug into his kidney.

“And what do they see in him? Odious little creep.”

Even so, she didn’t take her eyes off the two blurry figures struggling, panting and gasping in the corner of her screen.

*

Her supporting leg was tiring fast, the other leg was cramping, and the back of her head was knocking uncomfortably against the glass with every thrust. She tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position but he held her firmly, using his entire bodyweight to keep her in place, thrusting into her unceasingly. He gritted his teeth and said again, punctuating each word with a twitch of his hips: “Let’s- see- if- we- can get this- out of- your- system-”

He came in her with an unsettling little whine, strangely vulnerable, and she held her breath as he leaned into her, his lips brushing her neck, gently this time. He stood still for a few seconds, pressed tightly into and against her, and then he inclined his head gently so that his lips touched her ear. The leg that was holding her up was trembling madly, but still he did not let her go.

“Since you are on my team, you must surely be intelligent enough not to expect any special treatment because of this,” he said in a soft, dangerous voice. There was no hint of vulnerability now. He had taken a hand off her hip and was fumbling in his back pocket for something – a handkerchief. She nodded, unable to speak.

He shook it delicately open, continuing:

“It was a favour from me to you, nothing more. If anything, you owe me a favour in return, but all I’ll expect of you is diligent work and no more sloppy mistakes in future. Do we have an agreement?”

He slipped out of her, dropping her leg at the same moment. She almost collapsed. The tingling feeling of blood returning to her leg was almost unbearable. She smoothed her skirt down, aware of how wrecked she must look. Her ponytail was half undone, she was pretty sure she had a bruise forming on her cheekbone, and one leg was in and one leg out of her tights.

He took a step back, using his handkerchief to clean himself off before zipping himself up and fastidiously folding the handkerchief and returning it to his trouser pocket.

“Well? And for goodness sake, tidy yourself up.”

She finally found her voice. “Yes, doctor, we have an agreement,” she said, raising her chin to look at him.

An alarm beeped into life on his phone. He sighed irritably.

“I need to go. Continue with the task I’ve set you.” He gestured at her abandoned notepad lying forlornly face down at her feet and turned to leave the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him she began to busy herself with her appearance. She retrieved her shoe and shuffled back into her tights. She redid her hair and grabbed her notepad, arranging herself on still-wobbly legs in front of the specimen they had just defiled. It didn’t seem to have particularly noticed. There were a few drops of fluid on the floor in front of the tank, and she gazed at them she thought ruefully about her underwear and tights, which would surely be ruined by the time she had completed the three-hour task she had been set.  
  
With a great effort she brought her mind back to the task at hand.

She hadn’t told him so, as she didn’t think he would take it kindly, but if his stated goal was to “get this out of her system” he had failed. Badly.


	2. Chapter 2

It was an important day in the lab. A specimen had come to the point where dissection would bear fruit, and so it was all hands on deck to drain, transfer, dispatch and arrange.

The origins of this specimen were human, so extra care had to be taken. For this reason, only the steadiest hands were trusted and she was pleased to have proved herself as capable of this kind of delicate task.

Once the specimen was ready, the assistants retreated to their other tasks. Everyone had their own projects to be working on, and she was really no exception. Still, she lingered a moment. She wanted to look. She wanted him to catch her looking.

She heard the snap of rubber and a soft clink of implements being gathered up in a cloth bag. He came out of the scrub station wearing bright blue rubber gloves. He approached the specimen with a solemn attitude that was only slightly spoiled by the feral grin that split his face. He didn’t spare a glance for her or seem to even notice she was there.

Shining steel slid effortlessly through flesh. The sound of it was maddening. Ridiculous, she had never felt this way about dissections before.

The gentle clink of an instrument being put down, and a subtly different noise as another was picked up.

It wasn’t the dissection. It was him, watching his deft and clever hands manipulating the layers of tissue, the wickedly sharp and delicate instruments, and his eyes, bright behind his glasses, hard to catch a glimpse of through his tinted spectacles, but mesmerising whenever she did.

She lingered a moment longer then took up her station, typing up the notes from her portion of the proceedings. She soon became absorbed in the task. She was good at writing up her insights – she’d been instrumental in moving several projects ahead, and she’d been praised professionally by Hojo himself as well as other senior Shinra scientists.

Once it was done she sneaked another peek over her shoulder. He had moved from the dissection table to his desk, taking handwritten notes. She noticed that he had not removed his gloves. She gave a little shiver. His secretary wouldn’t be happy when he had to type that up, smears and all.

Turning back to her screen, she scrolled up and started to proof-read and revise what she’d written, line by line till she was satisfied with it, then hit “submit” with a pleased flourish.

There was a clatter of dropped implements, she heard his chair scrape harshly on the floor as he rose from his desk, and in three strides he was upon her, his left hand still wet with ichor grabbing her jaw, his fingertips digging in to the flesh below her ear and his thumb on her chin, his other hand on the back of her neck, pressing his lips to hers with a scrape of teeth.

She flailed backwards in her chair, the force of him pushing it back onto two legs, and for one terrifying moment she was sure she was going to fall backwards. She flung her arms out to steady herself and made an undignified squeaking noise before her centre of gravity swung back and she became suddenly aware of his tongue in her mouth and the wet smear of who-knew-what along her jawline.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she made a series of little “oh!” noises. She clutched at his elbows, drawing him closer and rising up a little in her chair. In response he drew back, making her follow him, laughing at her and her soft little noises of desire. He bit her lower lip viciously, not quite hard enough to make it bleed, and this time she cried out in earnest, disengaging from him with a hurt look on her face that only made him laugh harder. He removed his blue rubber gloves one after the other, balling them up and dropping them on the floor, and then reached for her again, clutching her upper arms, pushing her back down into her seat and bending over her, burying his face between her neck and her shoulder as she gasped, sucking and biting another bruise she’d struggle later to hide.

“I-“ she began, but he cut her off with a cruel hand over her mouth.

“You were staring,” he panted into her neck, his breath wet and hot, “even though I told you not to distract me while I’m working.”

The fingers of his free hand were on her collarbone now, working their way under the collar of her blouse, fumbling with the top button. She slid her arms around his shoulders and ran her hands down his lab-coat-clad back.

“If you are determined to be a distraction, then I assert my right,” he whispered, swiftly unbuttoning her blouse with one hand while the rubber-tasting thumb of the other found its way into her mouth, “to be _distracted_.”

She rose up in the chair again, pushing herself against him as he leaned over her, his hand finding its way inside her blouse and making her gasp as his fingers ghosted over sensitive places.

He captured her lips again, his tongue roughly invading her mouth, and she heard a clink and a shuffle of fabric, and then the rough unzipping sound. He released her, standing back up to his full height. Suddenly she was confronted with his very erect cock at face level in front of her.

She sucked in a little breath, her cheeks flushed suddenly crimson with shock and from the fierce spark of lust that shot through her. She was wet enough that her chair was in danger.

He allowed her to admire him for a few moments, but soon he was thrusting forwards, touching his head to her lips, his hand gently touching the side of her head, threading through her hair and sliding across the shell of her ear.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and at that moment his gentle fingers clenched tight in her hair and he thrust his cock into her throat.

She gagged and he let up, still holding her head tightly but pulling back so that the head of his cock was in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks and start to suck in earnest, grabbing the back of his thighs.

He let out an unmistakeable moan through gritted teeth, the most unguarded sound she had ever heard him make, and it spurred her on to greater enthusiasm, hollowing her cheeks and moaning herself in response. His gripping fingers were pulling her hair out of its bun and strands fell down against her cheeks and the back of her neck. His other hand had emerged from the front of her blouse, but it was still hanging open and he was openly appreciating the view as he surveyed her from above through the tinted lenses of his glasses.

Now that she had relaxed into it, he began to thrust deeper into her mouth, soon hitting the back of her throat once again. She was ready for it this time and managed not to gag quite so badly. She looked up at him through watering eyes, breathing frantically through her nose as she worked her tongue over him. His gaze was fixed on her, his mouth open in a rictus smile, wider and crueller than any smile she had seen on anyone but him.

She squeezed her eyes closed, squeezing her thighs together at the same time, desperate for a little friction of her own, and under no illusions that this favour would be returned – not today anyway. Still, there was a bathroom stall with her name on it that had been utilised many times to relieve her frustration, and she knew she’d be sent off to ‘tidy herself up’ as soon as he had finished having his way with her. A pattern was beginning to emerge.

Tears from her watering eyes sent mascara streaks down her cheeks, and she clutched at the back of his thighs and the meagre lower curve of his skinny ass as he thrust more quickly into her mouth, his own dark hair falling forward over his face. He was letting out tense little grunts, nearing his climax.

He thrust once again past her tongue and tonsils and came deep in her throat, letting out a long exhalation that culminated in just a hint of that vulnerable little whine that she liked so much.

He let go of her hair and she allowed him to slip from her mouth, opening her eyes once more and looking up at him. He tucked himself neatly back inside his trousers and fastened his belt, holding eye contact with her the whole time as she panted, getting her breath back and swallowing the last of him down. He smiled enigmatically and ran a single finger from her temple to her chin, before turning abruptly away from her.

He went back to his desk, saying nothing. She guessed he trusted her now to know that her next step should be to slink off to the bathroom and fix her wrecked hair and dishevelled clothes.

As she stood to exit the room, he said her name in an imperious tone, and she stopped obediently in the doorway.

“You will not dawdle over this task. I want you back at your station five minutes from now. I have a task for you and it must be done today. Do I make myself clear?”

She sighed quietly and resigned herself to an evening of frustration.

“Yes doctor.”

The door hissed open and she slipped quietly from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never written a blowjob in my life, so this is virgin territory for me! 
> 
> Trying to convey in this chapter that he's stuck to his guns on the "no special favours" rule, but that he's also not hindering her career just because he can't resist abandoning lab ethics with her constantly, because it's sexy to bone your crazy creepy sexually forceful boss in the lab but it's not sexy to have your career ruined over it. Blame my brain for worrying about this stuff despite trying to make her as blank a slate as possible to we can all ~project~
> 
> Where do all the other people who work in this lab go when the sexytimes start? Who knows! Wherever those two randos went when Avalanche appeared and held Hojo at gunpoint!


	3. Chapter 3

She flexed her arms, the metal buckles of her restraints clinking and the rubber giving just ever so slightly, not enough to ease her aching muscles. She was still seeing stars, but the burn in her arm muscles was just starting to register as her high ebbed.

The pipe she was bound to was thick and sturdy, which was just as well because it supported almost her whole weight. It pulsed and rumbled against her naked skin, alternately hot and cold as strange fluids rushed through it to places unknown.

Some part of her knew that this had gone far too far. She’d put in for a transfer to the team studying naturally-occurring materia at the anomaly site near Mideel. A whole continent and a choppy stretch of water between them, it might be enough to keep her out of trouble.

She looked down at the source of the trouble, on his knees before her, the back of his head the only part of him she could see and concentrate on as he worked to squeeze every drop of pleasure out of her. His hair was still infuriatingly neat in its ponytail, she had wanted to touch it, to wind her fingers into it the way he had with hers, but her arms, bound to her sides and then to the pipe behind her, prevented it.

He’d taken his glasses off though, and she had seen a brief glimpse of his dark glittering eyes before he had taken her thighs in his hands. He’d lifted her up and outwards, unbalancing her and forcing her to lean backwards against the pipe, and then he’d pushed his long clever tongue in between her folds, first teasing and then mounting a devastating campaign against her clit, stroking, licking, pushing, using his thumbs to get better access, and palpably _grinning_ against her most sensitive parts.

Just as she started to think that the ache of her arms would start to overshadow the fading glow of her high, she felt herself building towards release, and soon enough she cried out in ecstasy, bucking against him.

Hojo made a smug, self-satisfied-sounding little hum of triumph, releasing her upper thighs. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back in an incongruously prim posture, and replaced his glasses, taking in her panting form before him, lashed to a pipe with her arms bound tight to her sides, her lower arms crossed behind her back.

He had a look in his eyes she had never seen before, a touch of awe, and it made her bashful and shy, as ridiculous as that seemed now that he had had her over almost every surface in the lab.

She struggled to rebalance herself, her legs left weak and shaking from a combination of fatigue, orgasm and the mako-

The mako!

He had come up behind her at the end of the working day, just as she had been considering making her way to the locker room to hang up her lab coat. He’d taken her roughly by the elbow and spun her round into a punishing kiss, and she’d tasted it, in his mouth, on his tongue.

He’d breathed it into her and she had seen stars, heard voices. He’d stripped her naked, piece by piece, there in the lab where anyone could see, but she hadn’t cared, she'd been past caring. He’d taken some of the straps used to restrain recalcitrant test subjects and bound her, arranged her just so, listening to her whines and half-hearted protestations with a hungry indifference. She’d said things, god knows what, and he’d laughed, but he’d said things back, she was sure of it, though she knew even in the moment that she would never be able to remember what he’d said.

Looking down at him she felt simultaneously tremendous and insignificant in his sight. She suddenly felt hungry for his touch and she strained again at her bonds, making an incoherent little noise, and she saw his eyes widen fractionally.

He leapt to his feet and immediately began fumbling with the buckles at her sides. In seconds she was free, and she threw herself onto him, chasing sensation as the mako dissipated. He let her bear him to the ground, flat on his back with his head thrown back as she went to work opening his shirt, unbuckling his belt and taking possession of his erection, almost impossibly hot and hard in her hand. She leaned forward and up and slid herself down onto him, eliciting a long gasping groan from him and punching a moan from her own lungs.

As she rode him, his hands clutched at empty air. She ran her hands across his chest and belly, but he hardly seemed to notice. She had never seen or touched this much of him before. It felt obscene and intimate in a way not even taking his cock in her mouth felt.

He clenched his teeth and hissed as a he came, thrusting his hips up to meet her, slapping his hands once sharply against the metal floor before reaching for her, grabbing her hips and holding her still in place as he emptied into her, finally catching her eye and holding it, the calculating look seeping back in as she watched. She carefully off and away from him, reaching for her strewn clothes. 

He was already on his feet, tucked away, their usual pattern, him composed, her wrecked. He put his hand in his pocket and took out his glasses, puting them on and regarding her through them. He gave a single low chuckle and turned to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something interesting about being on your knees in front of a woman bound in that position is there, Hojo?
> 
> I've decided that mako gets you high in small to moderate doses. Maybe it only works that way for Shinra science weirdos.
> 
> Where are they in the lab specifically? Wherever you like! Is it one of the weird little side rooms with tanks and stuff in then, or one of the big atria? Is it the observation deck where Hojo watches 'volunteers' either break his toys or get broken themselves? Hell yeah, that one is sexy, why not imagine that. 
> 
> Can you tell I'm feeling a bit soft and sensitive at the moment


End file.
